As Smilog stood panting outside Roggies chamber, his back against the door, his eyes were as wide as the walls of Minas Tirith. There was only one possible explanation for Roggie's erratic and, quite frankly, irrational behaviour. It is this very reason that Smilog not only guesses, but loudly states to the nearest passing being...

"He's totally mad, isn't he?" he said to a rather large and seemingly friendly Orc who was dressed as a clown.

"Don't talk to me about him!" cried the clown Orc, "He calls this 'comedy Tuesday' and so my sector has to come here dressed as clowns."

"Its not Tuesday," Smilog pointed out, and almost immediately wished he hadnít as the Orc then stormed off blurting out all kinds of insults and swearwords and some words that no one had ever heard before. Holding his breath, Smilog realised that he had better get back in there and convince Roggie to restart negotiations. If I can't handle him, he thought, what chance do the rest have?

He pushed open the door and rolled behind a table and cowered down, listening for Roggie. Yet he heard no sound. Smilog thought this terribly odd, so he peered over the edge of the table and saw that he was the only being in the room. Then he saw a rat dash across the floor and had to re think his status as 'only living thing in the room'. This revelation led Smilog to Roggie's desk to investigate. Indeed, his investigations brought him to the drinks cupboard and to Roggies stash of Gondor's finest Ale and wine.

What was more, he found a good store of pipe weed and a small bag of gold, all these things Smilog soon placed in his pockets. Except for the wine, he drank some of that and hid the rest in his pack. Now, the issue of Roggie, he thought, where has he got to?